//------------------------------// // 9 // Story: Happiness Is What You Make Of It // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// A pair of bulky earthponies dressed in white escorted me from the carriage through what could be called a mansion towards a set of two rooms - the head psychiatrist's office and the waiting room. A nurse told me to wait until called for, and went inside the office. A moment later, I could hear the faint traces of a hesitant conversation. Sitting down on the floor by the door, I perk my ears. I could sit in one of the comfortable armchairs, but I'm sort of used to sitting on the stone floor with my back against a wall. The boiler room was a friendly place. Having nothing to do but wait, I listen and catch what little fragments I can. "...anything unusual?" "...recovery...magic..." "...not enough..." "...have to wait..." "...dangerous?" "...doubt..." "...nothing special..." "...anything yet." They must be talking about me and my quick release from the castle infirmary, but as expected the door is thick enough not to hear anything clear. Without a single creak of the hinges, the door opens and a tall and shockingly bulky unicorn nurse walks out. She looks at me with an impassive face of box-like features a minotaur would envy. "Come in," her heavy accent coupled with a deep voice feel like a hammer hitting an anvil. Entering the office, I watch the nurse until she leaves and closes the door behind her. "She is less scary than she looks," says the head psychiatrist. His tone is warm and understanding, which must be the prime prerequisite for the job, "Now, sit down, mister...?" "Greyscale. Tank yoo," I plant my rump onto a leather couch so soft I could- I yawn instantly. "Soree." "Hmmm," the doctor keeps watching me while his levitating pencil writes something into a notepad on his desk. His coat is light brown turning to yellow, and both his mane and a bushy goatee accompanied by a moustache are silvery grey. With his thick, black spectacles he completes the psychiatrist stereotype to the letter. All that's missing is a book with unrecognizable pictures and him making a pyramid of his front hooves. Aaah, here it is. He props his chin on the triangle of his front legs. "My name is Clear Insight, and I've been tasked to make you feel better. Nice to meet you, Greyscale." "Helou!" I beam. He raises his eyebrows and requites my smile, although in a more reserved fashion. "Now, it is important for you to trust me and tell the truth," he says calmly, as if he'd said this already thousands of times, "I promise nothing you say will leave this office. To help you, I need to get to know you, so I would like to ask you some simple questions during this session." "Okey," I yawn again and shuffle on the couch. "That thing is sinfully comfortable. Too bad I'm not allowed to use it since it's only for the patients," he chuckles, "Make yourself at home." "Tank yoo." "Alright, can we begin?" he gives me a patient look as I lie down on my back and look at the ceiling. "Yes." "First, the short request to accommodate you here in Border Glade came with this," he levitates a dark grey pony shape decorated by accessories in various shades of blue and purple up for me to see, "There's a short note for you here as well." It's a batpony plushie, specifically an armored Nightguard stallion one with dark blue wings, violet mane, yellow eyes, and all the little bits of official breastplate, helmet, and horseshoes. Everything is soft, but durable and extremely well done, as if meant to be given to a careless foal who would love it, but might inadvertently break it. A note comes flying to me as well and stops above my muzzle. "Dis ees comandr Steeches end hee will protekt yoo. Ai got eet wen Ai wos smoll from mai ded end took eet wit mee from d fair. Dont woree about dose morons woo ran away witout tinking about deir stuff - Eklips," I read, more and more surprised with every word. "Hmmm," the doctor's pen scratches something more into his notepad, "Will you be sending something back? I think we can make sure it gets to the recipient." I blush and bite my lip. "Ken yoo... rait eet for mee? Mai raitink ees deefeecult too undrstand. Eet ees as bed as mai speech." "If you wish, we can do it tomorrow. Today I just want to get to know you and make sure the basic things for your stay here are sorted out." "Okey," I nod. "Alright, first question - how old are you?" "Twentee sevn." "Hm, you look younger." "Eet ees d mane." "You barely have any. Is it because of the fire?" "Nou, Ai lost most of mai cout een d fair. Ai cut d mane maiself." "Why, do you like the style?" "Umm... Aim not shure. Eet felt laik a good aideeya at d taim." "I see. Now, where were you born, Greyscale?" "Um, Ai dont nou." "Huh?" his glasses tilt a little, "How come?" "Ai reemembr waiking up een an alley. Eet wos reining. Ai crawld undr an overhang. Leitr Ai got bokses so Ai wasnt kold." "When... when did this happen?" he asks, levitating pen scribbling furiously onto paper. "Bout a mont ago." The pen stops and he stares, glasses slowly sliding down his muzzle. "How did nopony know about this?" "Wai wud dey? Dey hef deir laivs," I shrug, not really seeing the doc's problem. "But... but..." he takes a deep breath and calms down, "Nevermind that. So, you don't remember anything past waking up there?" "Nou." "Have you tried finding out what happened?" "Nou." "Why?" "Eet ees not importent," I shrug, "Ai em Greyscale. Ai kant doo much so Ai doo wot ponees tell mee. Ai went too d kastle end got a job as a kleener." "Right after you woke up you went to the castle, KNEW there was a job opening, AND got it without anypony asking questions? All that while remembering NOTHING about yourself?" he sighs, "Did I get it right? No steps inbetween like employment agency, gossip on the street about a job vacancy?" "Onlee d castle employmeant laydee. Ai got luckee." "And you are not bothered in the slightest by not knowing how or why you got to the alley where you woke up?" "Noup. Wai shud Ai?" "It might help you know who you are." "Ai nou woo Ai em. Ai em Greyscale. Ai trai too help ponees." "What about yourself? In terms of finding a place to live or somepony to live with, I mean?" "Ai hed mai boks, Ai hed fuud, Ai wos kleen, end eet wos warm een d boiler room." "I see. A simple life. Were you happy with it?" "Yes." "Did you want anything else. Let us say, for the future?" "Nou." "Were you thinking about what you would do in case you got fired, no atrocious pun intended?" "Ai hed mai boks were eet didnt rein. Ai woshd maiself een a founteen een a park wen d barraks were clousd. Ai kud work for food." "I see. Well, no, I need to be open with you. Your point of view is so far from mine I will have to think about it for some time. However, there are some emerging patterns I could grasp from our short interview." "Ou?" His pen lays itself neatly next to his notepad and he leans towards me. "You can read completely fine, but you can't write. You understand things well, can improvise, at least according to the report miss Grey Shrine filed about you, and your grammar is, past some little details, of somepony with high education, yet you cannot talk properly. Your background would drive a normal pony insane with desire to find out what happened, and yet you show no interest in it. In short, you can take things in, but you, and this is just my guess, are not allowed somehow to interact in the... outwards direction." "Weerd," I shrug, not really bothered. "One last question for now, if you don't mind." "Yoo are a nais ponee, ser. Go ahed." "Can you tell me the names of all ponies you know, just names?" "Uhm, okey. Eklips, Selesteeya, Loona, Peersing Heet, Grei Shrain, Kleer Insait, Steeches. Dets oll Ai tink." "And yours?" "Greyscale." "Thank you, Greyscale. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Border Glade." "Eet lookd preety from d autsaid." "Indeed," Clear Insight nods, "Nurse-" "Helga d Horreebl?" I take a guess. "Why does everypony keep guessing that? No, nurse Chiseled Chin will now show you around the asylum. Contrary to the popular belief, she does not eat granite slabs for breakfast, no matter what any witne- gossips might say." "Owww..." "She IS, however, our head nurse and head warden at the same time." "Dets a lot of heds," it all makes sense now, "She ees a haidra een diguis!" "No." "Are yoo shu-" "Yes." "Ai cud ask-" "No!" "Okey," I decide not to torture the poor doctor further. He smiles as the door opens and the towering head nurse comes for me. "Helou, mem Cheese-lead Shin." "Come with me, mister Greyscale," she says in a rumbling voice of an avalanche about to swallow a hillside village, "We will take great care of you here." Why is my hair standing on edge? "Yeah, don't trust anything the brick wall with tits says," I hear a quiet whisper near my ear. There is nothing there, though. Only a stuffed Nightguard plushie nesting firmly on my back. Well, apparently the guards were right to send me here. I AM crazy. Well, they are smart, and if they believe this place can help me then I must do everything I can not to fail them. "Did you say something?" the head nurse asks out of nowhere. "Ummm..." I should be straight with her, she is here to help, "Ai tink mai plushee just tolked too mee." I give her an uncertain smile when she stops and watches Stitches on my back. "Can I have a look at it?" she asks with surprising gentleness. I nod. The soft warmth of the toy hugging my neck disappears as she levitates it to herself and examines it closely, the glow of her horn changing colours multiple times. In the end she sighs. "No, it is not magical in any way," she shakes her head, "I'm afraid that doesn't bode well for you." "Soree for beeing trabl." "We have treated enough patients hearing voices, trust me. At least you aren't trying to run away." "It's nais heer, warm and drai." "I'm glad you like it. Your room should be ready shortly, so we can go on a short excursion just so you know your way around. I haven't recieved any instructions to keep you under lock and key, so for now you are free to use any inside or outside facilities we have." "Okey." The design of the Border Glade home is simple. It's an airy two-story building with a bulkier central part and two wings, all together forming a U-shape which shields the gardens outside from the bustle of lower Canterlot. Situated on the edge of the city, the entire proper is inside a square of high walls barely letting any outside noise in. The left and right wing of the complex are merely long hallways with rooms on the sides. The doors are padded and equipped with latches the asylum staff can use for watching the patients. I'm not allowed to look inside many of them so that I don't disturb the residents, but some doors look more as slabs of steel meant to keep ponies inside under all circumstances. "Some ponies here are terrified of others. They need to be allowed very sporadic contact with outside world to recover, that means even the sounds of the world outside of their rooms." "Wot will yoo doo too mee?" I ask, curious after passing a half-open door at the central block leading to a room with a group of ponies painting something on large canvas. "For the first few days the head psychiatrist will simply talk to you to find out as much about you as he can and then he will decide on the treatment. Since you don't seem in a bad shape we will just observe you and give you some pills. Nothing invasive." Room after room with various instruments and dazed ponies looking halfway in a different reality later, the tour is complete. The distant stares of the treated patients are worrying, but all of the look like they are having fun on some level. She leads me towards a double door in the central part in the end. "Here is the common room, where we allow the patients who are currently not undergoing any treatment mingle. You can wait for me there while I check out if your room is ready. Don't be afraid. Some patients might seem strange but we let the dangerous ones socialize with others only under heavy observation. The common room is for those in a similar state as you." "Okey. Tank yoo, miss Shin." "Be nice, and your time here will just fly by, and you will feel much better in the end," she smiles, "Ah, I forgot," the feeling of a plushie sitting firmly on my back returns, "This is yours, just don't listen to anything it says. The first step to stop hearing voices is not acknowledging them." "Olrait, mem," I bow to her and open the door to the common room, ready to meet some new ponies.